


Kidnap the Black and Blue

by AdelvinaGaarder



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Abduction, Fever, Kidnapping, Light Angst, M/M, Physical Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-24 07:49:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7500027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdelvinaGaarder/pseuds/AdelvinaGaarder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent were kidnapped at the ball along with a few celebrities by a rising criminal gang. Clark was capable to save everyone. However, he had to make the decision which Bruce was strongly against to, either exposing his superhero identity, or watching a sick Bruce suffer in pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Body Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark thought it was a normal day which he need to force the sick but stubborn Bruce to eat. However, things went wrong at the ball.

When Superman landed in the Bat-Cave, it was late afternoon and Batman was standing at the computer investigating some cases that he had been working on. It was odd to see Bruce in his suit during day time. Clark wondered if he ever left the bat cave since last night.

  
Batman had never been surprised by his entering. Superman thought it might be the security alarm or the sonic blast that notified him. At first, Superman doubted if Bruce would feel offended when he broke in to the cave without notifying him ahead, trespassing or not. However, Bruce was neither amused or annoyed. Clark took that as an approval. He greeted Batman, and Bats returned him a nod.

 

Their first meeting was rather bad. Superman caught Batman interrogating a criminal in a dark alley at Gotham. It was a miracle that they hadn't end up in a fight. Now they became a sort of partners, the tension between them had generally decrease. Although Superman never confessed, he was glad to have Bruce who he could share his secrets to.

 

There were a few pictures on the screen, the face of Scarecrow who recently gas-attacked the town hall, the close-up of Joker’s cell in Arkham as he threatened the psychologist last week, and the video of a criminal gang who robbed 3 banks in a month.

  
“A day after capturing Harvey Dent,” Superman complained. “And here we are. Gotham criminals are rather knotty.”

  
Batman coughed and cleared his throat. “They are criminals.” Batman said. “The only thing they don’t know is stop committing crime.” He pulled the mouse closer and clicked on the criminal gang video, observing with his eyes fixed on the screen.

“They called themselves the Red Ravens.” Batman peered at Superman, looking interested. Superman shrugged and continued. “Their leader is Gerard Stegg, a rather brusque man. He and his gang used to work in Metropolis, the planet keep track of them.”

  
“They robbed 3 banks in a row. Sometimes held hostages to escape or for ransom. They don’t have a pattern and that’s rather decisive. They are dang-“The sentence was cut off by some coughs, Batman grabbed the cup of water on the table and drank it in one gulp.

  
“Are you ok, Bruce?” Superman asked, he took a few step closer but Batman gestured him to stop. He was worried about Bruce. The capture of Two-face was tough last night, 2 teams from the GCPD couldn’t even get in the building where Dent installed 2 time-bomb. Batman had no choice but to remove the bombs and disarm the groups of men all by himself. He then fought Two-face, who brutally cut him a slash on the thigh. Superman wanted to help but Batman told him to stay out of Gotham business. Anyone who is sane would have taken a rest, but after all, that’s Batman.

  
Batman swallowed the bile coming up his throat. He was down to something, his coughs had been even frantic and often since morning. “I probably caught a cold.” He confessed, nothing to lie about.

  
“A cold?” Superman was alarmed, question time. “How long have you had the cold? Have you slept at all? Have you eaten yet? Do you have any headache?” He noticed a set of food prepared on the table untouched, why was he not surprised?

  
“Calm down.” Batman simply cut him off. “Two days. Around 3 hours. Later, Alfred prepared something. A little since the morning.”

  
“And you went out to hunt Dent last night?!”

  
“It never bothers me.”

  
“You could have called Robin to help.”

  
“You mean Nightwing? Dick’s job is over Blüdhaven, not Gotham. Jason is…” Superman winced, realizing he made a grave mistake mentioning the name. “He has his own business.”

  
After a brief silence, Superman pulled Batman away from the computer and settled him at the chair nearby. He grabbed the tray of dinner and shoved it into Batman. Bruce scowled at him, “I’m busy.”

  
“Not as important as your health.” Superman pointed out, crossed his arms. “You will drink this bowl of soup and eat the breads.”

  
“I will eat it later, right after I finish the investigation.”

  
“No, the foods will run cold.”

  
“I will do it as quick as possible.”

  
“You are not going to get away from this.”

  
Batman remained still. He frowned and had his mouth shut. Not that he didn’t like Alfred’s foods, but he didn’t feel like eating. After the lunch, he nearly throws up at the bathroom. He was smart enough not to mention this piece of news, but he was desperate to figure out the next possible attack of the Red Raven gang. He tried to tell Superman to move away but was interrupted by a roll of coughs.

  
“What? You need me to feed you?”

  
“I’d like to see you try.” Batman smirked.

  
Superman tried to convince Batman again, this time with his puppy-dog eyes. “Please Bruce.” Superman said softly. “You will feel better when your belly is warm.”

  
Either the puppy-dog eyes or the soft tune worked, Batman gave in. Bruce took off his cowl, revealing his damp forehead and reddened cheeks. He was not in a good shape. He removed his gloves and started eating. He had to admit that he felt warmer when the meal was in his stomach. He finished the bowl and placed it on the tray. “Alright?”

  
Clark nodded in his approving smile. He touched Bruce’s forehead. “You are hot.”

  
“That’s what the ladies always say.”

  
“No,” Bruce raised his eyebrow. “I mean you are, eh… Did Alfred took your temperature?” Clark tried to keep his face straight.

  
Bruce winced, back from Clark’s touch. “Yes, 37 degrees this morning. It is a mild fever.”

  
“Bruce…” Clark narrowed his eyes. “You should have rest immediately!”

  
“You don’t understand. A fever is relatively a small issue, compare to a robbery gang.” He slowly shook his head, looking at the confused Clark. “You have never been ill, right? I have figured that out from your alien physiology. You are overacting. Calm down.”

  
Clark looked like he was going to snap Bruce at any moment.

  
Bruce coughed again, before he continued, “I’m going to back up the files and go upstairs, ok?” He scrolled the mouse at the panel. “Are you coming tonight? The Wayne charity ball?”

  
“You have the list of medias attending.”

  
“Are you coming or not?”

  
Clark sighed. “Yes, the planet covers this event.”

  
“You should start preparing.” Bruce gestured at the clock, before he started to climb upstairs.

  
“See you then.” Bruce said, he then shut the door and leaved Clark with the bat cave behind.

  
***

  
A spatter of vomit hit the ceramic, as Bruce throwing up the meal he took just now. The pungent smell of sickness and disgust invaded him, expanding the terrible feeling from his stomach. He could feel the hotness and bile pushing up his throat, forcing him to swallow.

  
He tried to raise his head from the toilet to a comfortable position. However, another vomit hit him hard, causing his head even further into it. The feeling of nausea was stronger, while his stomach is getting emptier and emptier.

  
The vomiting exhausted him, Bruce found himself too tired to raise his hand to flush the toilet. Instead, he managed to sit next to the toilet, back against the wall. He wore no shirt, not to get his expensive suit dirty. He shivered, heavy panting, Bruce shut his eyes to gather his thought.

  
He was in his bedroom toilet at Wayne Tower. Attending the Wayne Charity Ball, Bruce went to his company earlier and stayed at his private penthouse while waiting. Had he known his condition was getting worse, he would have cancelled his schedule at the last minutes. But again, he didn’t want to disappoint Lucius, who recently advised him to rebuild his public image. Brucie, the dissolute wastrel of the House of Wayne, deserved a second chance. Bruce doubted that, it doesn’t matter how Brucie looked as long as it protected Batman from identity exposal.

  
Someone knocked the front door. “Mr. Wayne?” It was a female voice, probably the new secretary Anne. Bruce forgot her surname, he didn’t care.

  
Bruce stood up, both of his hands on his knee. Before opening the front door, he took a deep breath and swipe the cold sweat from his damped forehead. Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed his chest, knocking him out of balance as he tripped over, falling to his knee and clawing at his shirt. Chest pain.

  
“Mr. Wayne?!” Anne must had heard the fall. “Are you okay?”

  
“Yes.” Bruce shouted desperately. “Anne, speak.”

  
Anne hesitated, before she continued, “Sir. The Charity Ball begins in 30 minutes. Mr. Fox expect you to arrive the main hall 10 minutes earlier.”

  
“Alright, tell Lucius I am on my way.” Bruce replied. “Now Anne, please leave.”

  
The last sentence sounded more Batman than Brucie. His illness had caught him off guard. Luckily the secretary had no suspicion. As soon as he heard the footsteps going away, Bruce was ready to get things done.

  
Do the speech, shake some hands, free to go, Bruce told himself repeatedly.

  
***

  
The main hall of Wayne Tower certainly lived up to its name. Considering it was an office-based building, the hall itself was rather ampliate and sumptuous for any type of parties. Currently filled with rich and famous, the ball was too crowded for the bespectacled reporter to catch a glimpse of the Wayne organizer. Clark Kent cut through the flock of people, while seizing his chance targeting the celebrities he need to interview, prying on the Metropolis and Gotham big notables.

  
Even in his most expensive suit, Clark still felt like the farm boy from Kansas. Pushing up his glasses, straightening his jacket, Clark put on his professional look. It wasn’t Clark that never interviewed big events, but he usually covers official conferences and opening ceremonies. Even though Clark belonged to the current affairs section, Perry insisted him to replace one of his sick colleagues because he was confident on his skills. On the other hand, Clark took a few sick leaves last month due to Superman’s issues and he had no excuse to slip away from Perry.

  
Taking one more look on the list of interviewees, Clark mumbled the big names repeatedly. 2 CEOs, 1 Entrepreneur, and the host, Clark wasn’t sure if he could manage to scoop all of them. Fortunately, Perry did not expect the article until next week.

  
“Clark Kent?”

  
He turned around and saw a slender woman in a blue evening gown, amber hair to her shoulder, a reporter tag hanging down her neck and a warm grin on her pretty face.

  
“Good evening, Ms. Vale.” Clark greeted, reaching out his hand. He met Vicki Vale a few months ago in a tech conference. This diligent reporter from the Gotham Gazette was ever present in all Gotham events, her investigation range from exposing the corruption of GCPD to stalking the city’s vigilante. Clark appreciated her persistence and kept an open heart.

  
“Call me Vicki.” The other reporter shook Clark’s hand firmly. “Here to engage in talk with the rich?”

  
“Only if interview counts as a chat.”

  
“As I remember, you work at the current affair.” Vicki pointed out, eyeing on Clark’s notebook. “What brings you here?”

  
“One of the reporters from the entertainment section took a leave.” Clark replied, frowning. “Perry told me to go instead.”

  
Vicki laughed softly. “Guess I’m not the only one with a difficult boss to deal with.” She joked frivolously. Her attention transferred to the main entrance, focusing on the businessmen walking into the hall, admiring their classy look.

  
“I’m not familiar with the Gotham celebrities.” Clark confessed, peering at Vicki. “Would you mind introducing some of them to me?”

  
“Sure.” She was surprisingly kind to Clark. “See the man over there, the one in blonde hair hand clinging to his wife, he is the new boss and owner of Gotham’s mass transport.” Vicki continued introducing the celebrities to him, picking the finest one for future exclusives. Clark also questioned a few eye-catching faces, and Vicki had no trouble recalling their names and statuses.

  
“And that gentleman over there…” Both of the reporters had their eyes fixed on the nominally owner of Wayne Enterprise. The man with raven locks in a dark tux wore a faint smile, followed by a few board members and managers of the company.

  
“Bruce Wayne.” Clark murmured.

  
Vicki raise her eyebrow. “So you are familiar with the Gotham prince?” She asked.

  
“Interviewed him a few months ago.” Clark shrugged off. “Not sure if he even remembers my name.” He was telling the truth, that was what Clark Kent been through with Bruce Wayne. Superman was off record anyways.

  
“Wayne hasn’t show up in the events lately, despite his notorious playboy news from the Dallas club.” Vicki brushed her sway of hair on the face. “Let’s see what he is up to.”

  
***

  
Bruce held on the edge of the podium, standing on the stage. Before he began his speech, he had a moment to look down at all the participants of the ball. He saw the familiar faces, the new faces, the friendly faces, the abominable faces, all but eyes darted and smiling at him.

  
“Welcome the elites and philanthropists, dear friends from Gotham and Metropolis, Ladies and Gentlemen. On behalf of Wayne Enterprise, I would warmly welcome all participants and express my gratitude to your support to Wayne Charity.”

  
“People consider me as an expert on spending money, that’s affirmative because donating to the charity, providing support to the society are the right things to spent for.” He made a joke and took his pride on it.

  
Laughs came and went under the stage. Bruce scanned through the jolly crowd, not paying full attention until he found Clark. The reporter standing at the far end of the hall, curiously looking with a pair of keen eyes. Bruce froze at the spot, distracted by the presence of his partner.

  
Bruce promptly continued, “As this is just a brief welcome address, I will limit myself to wishing Wayne Charity lot of success. This ball is a tradition, meant to emphasize and affirm the importance of doing good deed. Let us enjoy the ball and the evening.”  
“Thank you.” He managed to finish his speech, before disturbed by a roll of coughs.

  
The moment was quickly interrupted by a loud crash. As the front door broke open, a group of masked men marched in with weapons and guns. One gunman shot the ceiling few times, terrorizing the flock of innocent people who were at a loss.  
Bruce felt the blood in his vein runs cold.

To be continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish you all enjoyed the chapter. The next chapter is going to be a ride. By the way a brief introduction to this AU: Justice League was not formed yet. Superman came up 2 years ago. Bruce met the newbie Clark on patrol in a certain event less than a year ago. No, they did not end up in a deadly fight, but became partners. There is two former robins, Dick and Jason.


	2. Outta My Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang crashed the ball, Bruce and Clark had no idea what is coming up.

  
It was between half of Bruce’s speech when Clark realized the trouble. When their eyes met, Clark was surprised that Bruce noticed him in crowd and his heart raced a little. At the same time, he overheard the small conversations from every entrances of the hall, in contribution to his super hearing.

  
“Team A calling, main entrance cleared.”

  
“Team B, in position.”

  
“Attack once the speech is over.”

  
He gasped, figuring someone unpleasant was going to crash the ball. How could they get pass the security? Questions babbled in Clark’s head, scaring and alerting him. He tried to reach to his phone, but then he remembered putting it away at the storage, a foolish move.

  
“Vicki, dial 911.” Clark lowered his head and whispered into the reporter’s ear.

  
Vicki furrowed his eyebrows. “Why? What is going on?”

  
“We don’t have time.” Clark said desperately. “Do as I said.”

  
Vicki grabbed her phone and quickly did the call. “Hello? Yes, this is from the Wayne Charity Ball…”

  
BAMP! The hall was instantly invaded by a group of masked terrorists. Horrified by the gun shot, Vicki dropped her on-going phone call. She unconsciously held tight to Clark’s arm, shivering while backing off from the gunmen.

  
“Hello Gotham’s moneybags. Enjoy the night?” A man with a strong build dared. Even under a mask, the man’s terrifying presence threatened everyone in the hall.

  
He walked further into the hall, with his fist tight. “We are looking for a few people. Then we will leave.” He looked through the motionless crowd. “So tell me, where is our beloved prince?”

  
Clark frowned. Bruce was not wearing his batcowl, among everyone who was capable, it was up to him to protect the Gotham royalty. He peered over his shoulder at the stage, under his x-ray version, he could see Bruce hiding behind the podium.

  
“Where are you going?” Vicki asked softer than a whisper, a glimpse of fear and uncertainty in her words.

  
“I have to find someone.” Clark replied. “Don’t panic. Stay with the crowd.” Vicki looked as though she wanted to protest, but was too struck by Clark’s serious expression. She gave Clark an approval nod before allowing herself to let go of Clark’s arm.

  
Vicki cursed under her breath when the other reporter walked away. She was both confused and afraid, how did Clark know beforehand? Who are these people? Why are they looking for Wayne? Did the GCPD received her call? Above everything, she knew she has one job at the moment, to buy Clark some time.

  
“We don’t know.” Vicki shouted at the leader of the gang. “Wayne left the stage soon after the speech was over.”

  
The leader approached Vicki. “Is it?” He read her reporter tag. “Ms. Vale?”

  
The leader stared at her. Vicki held her breath, unable to move away from his gaze. “Who are you?” She dared to ask before double thinking.

  
“Oh, we are the Red Ravens.” The man replied without hesitation giving away their gang name. “I believe we are the headline of yesterday’s Gotham Gazette.”

  
The leader pushed the scowling Vicki away, then turning to his lackey. “Go find him.” His order is simple and firm.

  
***

  
As soon as the break in happened, Bruce ducked behind the podium, his knees bent his chest and arms around it. He could recognize their customs and masks, no doubt the Red Raven, the gang he was investigating the entire afternoon. He underestimated the gang, he never thought they had the gut to attack the Wayne Tower directly, or maybe he was too confident to his own security.

  
“Where is our beloved Prince?”

  
Bruce sighed. Of course they were here to kidnapped the rich and blackmail their families. He wanted to stop them, but he was so tired and uncomfortable due to the sickness in him. He turned on his phone, trying to notify Alfred.

  
“Bruce!” He saw Clark crawling toward him, his body under the fences on the edge of the stage, avoiding the eyesight of the gang gunmen. “Are you okay? What should we do?”

  
“I’m alerting Alfred.”

  
“Vicki called the police. They should be arriving in any minutes.”

  
Bruce frowned. “I have a spare batsuit in the building. Follow me. I will get you to a secure place where Superman can be at service.”

  
The two disappeared behind the curtains on the stage. Heading down the hallway, Bruce and Clark could hear the guards shout and cursed. Not sure whether the gang took over the whole building yet, Bruce wish they had more time. They rounded the corner and walked straight into two gunmen.

  
One of the gunmen immediately stretched out the interphone. “We found the…” Bruce gripped the man’s arm and snapped it, knocking the interphone out of his hand. He doubled over and punched the man hard at his stomach.

  
Clark was stunned when the man tried to shoot him. Using a little of his super speed, he ducked the attack and charged forward with a knee to the gut. As the man fell to the floor, Clark kicked his gun to the far corner.

  
He reached out or Bruce, who had one hand on the wall to support himself. “Did he hurt you?” He put his palm on Bruce’s forehead, the fever had gotten worst, he couldn’t risk Bruce to fight again.

  
“I’m okay.” Bruce was panting, he wrapped his arm around Clark’s shoulder. “Let’s move on.”

  
“I afraid you are not going anywhere, Mr. Wayne.”

  
They froze as they heard the threatening voice from their back. Bruce shut his eyes, unmoving. Clark slowly turned around, facing the group of Red Ravens. The man in the middle wore a different mask, anyone could deduct the leader. Clark had jumped into action, he held his fist so tight that it had turned white.

  
“I’m curious.” The leader continued, slowly towards them. “How did you two left the hall?”

  
“I can handle them, Bruce.” Clark whispered under his breath. He couldn’t afford Bruce being abducted or harmed by these people. All it takes is heat vision and he can disarm the group.

  
“No, you won’t risk your identity.” Bruce turned around unwillingly, giving Clark an apprehensive look, then fixated at the leader. “We surrender.”

  
“Kneel! Now!”

  
They did what the gang demanded.

  
“Hands in the air.”

  
They raise their hands. The men kicked their back and pulled their hands backward, in pain Bruce groaned and Clark’s heart ached. The men did a quick job to tie them down. Before forced to face down, Bruce saw the leader’s smirking face holding an interphone.

  
“We have the prince.”

  
To be continued.


	3. Survivors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story continues as Bruce and Clark were taken, Vicki and the guests were trapped in the hall with a deadly threat.

The hall was in a dead silence. The guests who were chatting and laughing a while ago were muted, all of them sat quietly and nervously on the floor, occasionally there were murmurs and soft cries. At the 4 entrances of the hall each stood 2 gunmen, monitoring the big group of hostages, making sure no one makes a dubious move. Vicki Vale sat down under the table, hiding underneath. An old couple and a few other guests squeezed into this small space, turning the environment overcrowding and awkwardly tense.

A middle-age lady beside her crawled out of the table, as though she was looking for someone.

“What is it, madam?” Vicki asked as she grabbed the lady’s arm, ignoring the courtesy. “It is not safe getting out.”

“My husband,” The lady replied, worry-looking. “He is missing.”

Reminding her of Clark, the reporter in glasses who were nowhere to be seen, made Vicki frown. The reporter went looking for someone, he must had got away from the crowd before the terrorist held control of the hall. Vicki wondered if Clark escaped from the building, so he could get some help. Even though she called the police, there were no sign of them. Vicki felt completely helpless.

“I’m sure your husband is in the hall.” Vicki reassured her.

“No.” The lady shook her head, she lowered her voice. “When they crashed the party, they took my husband away during the chaos. I saw them.”

“Did you…” Vicki was interrupted by the opening sound from the front door.

A medium-size luggage was pulled into the main hall, Vicki had a bad feeling about it. A man towing the luggage further into the room, toward the silently-sitting crowd, escorted by two gunmen. He stopped at the middle of the room, people quickly backed away from suspicious group of men. The man knelt by one knee and unlocked the luggage, revealing a black mechanic tied to a timer. The nearby flock of people, including Vicki, were immediately alerted. No doubt the luggage was containing a timer-bomb. A boy who was merely two feet away from the luggage screamed, horrifying the rest of the rich in the hall. As fear spread among the hall, some of them tried to stand up and flee, but they were deterred by two alarming shot at ceiling.

“Don’t move, or I will blow your head first.” One gunman threatened.

“Stop running and screaming!” Another shouted.

A frightened baby was crying non-stop in his mother’s arms. A gunman glared at them, not even hiding the disgust look on his face. The mother’s dress was ripped and her hair was messy, she was cuddling her baby, desperately trying to stop the sob.

The gunman went up to them and when the mother saw him, her eyes were widened with fear. “Please! Don’t hurt the child.” She raised her voice.

“Then make the son of the bitch shut up!”

The mother lowered her head and held the baby tight, trying her best to comfort her child. Tears started to drop from her eyes too, she herself was way too scared to calm the baby down. The whispers and tchs from the people around her only pushed her pressure.

“You won’t help the baby if you shout at him.” Vicki said without a second thought.

The gunman turned his head. “Who said that?” He growled and targeted at the reporter. He walked toward her and pulled her up by her blue evening gown.

Vicki knew she has to be brave, even if it meant to be pretending. “I said, stop shouting at the mother and the child.” She didn’t blink.

The gunman was offended, he grabbed his gun tightly. Vicki closed her eyes, ready for whatever attacks coming. Fortunately for her, the gunman let go of her and returned to the timer-bomb.

“It is ready.” The man who knelt on the floor stood up and gestured to the other gunmen. As quick as a whirl of wind, the gang retreated from the hall and left the confused people.

Vicki approached the timber-bomb cautiously, she stopped once the number on the timer was visibly clear. She couldn’t help but gasped and covered her mouth.

15:00

***

“HEY!”

Clark scowled at the man who was roughly searching him. The man took away his pen and his notebook, unceremoniously throwing them to the floor. Clark whined at his lost, he had been using the notebook for the past 3 months, there were important information of sources he was following in it. Anger was rising in him, and he wasn’t particularly good at hiding them in front of criminals. Why would he? He was invincible, immune to guns and explosions, nothing can tie him down.

He knew he could break the restrain tied on his hands any time, but he was forced to stay low because of Bruce’s idea. Bruce told him he would risk his identity. What he said was probably true, exposed to these criminals and a few monitor cameras, and video tapes ended up in the hands of GCPD.

Bruce wasn’t any better. The man working on him looked more amused than impatient. He found a Swiss knife in the inner pocket of Bruce’s jacket, he raised his eyebrow, Bruce grunted and turned his head away.

“His phone was emitting.” The man reported, handing Bruce’s phone to the boss. “Not sure if it gives away his location or not.”

“You are not an easy man, Mr. Wayne.” The leader eyed at the phone, then at the Swiss knife and the random items on the floor. He threw the phone and stepped on it hard, crushing it entirely.

Bruce smirked, he wanted to reply but he ended up coughing. He swayed to the side, his body hit at the man beside him. If it wasn’t the man steadying him, Bruce would probably fall to the ground.

“Boss. The rich man is shivering.”

The leader laughed in a mockery way. “Finally you are afraid of us, huh?” He teased.

Clark furrowed his brow. Bruce was in a fever this afternoon. He needed rest, not being tied and kidnapped. His instincts told him to break free and carry Bruce away. But he was sober enough not to give in to his instincts, and gave Bruce a worried look.

Bruce swallowed the lump in his throat. “I am way stronger than I look.” He told the gang leader. He also referred to Clark’s worry. He tried to act confident, worrying wouldn’t help the situation.

Once the job was done, the two of them were mouth-gaged and had a black sack covering their head. With guns pointing at their back, they were forced to move and transported to somewhere at the basement. Bruce could tell by the smell of gasoline that they were heading into the car park.

“Who the hack is that?” A new voice asked when they stopped. There were footsteps along Clark’s side, that new man had a better observation. “That guy is a reporter? He is not on the list.”

“Just bring him along.” The leader said as he side-kicked Clark. “We can’t release him if he saw our plan. Killing him will only cause more trouble.”

“Is that so?” The man then came forward to Bruce. Even under a black sack, Bruce could feel the him taking a step too close and they were face to face. His hot breath was irritating, the man took Bruce’s chin and scoffed, “Can’t see his charming face under this plastic.”

“Knock it off.” The leader commanded and pushed Bruce backward. “Boss won’t like it.”

The other man mocked and laughed, “A little skin ship won’t hurt.” He leaded the way forward. “Time for you to pay back what you’ve taken, businessman.”

Bruce and Clark was shoved into a large cart, most likely to be the cart on a truck. They sat beside several hostages assuming to be the guests from the ball, they gone through the same treatment and gave up protesting. With no light inside the cart, the only light source from the door was soon blocked out.

“Clark, x-ray the truck.” Bruce whispered merely audibly, just enough for Clark’s super hearing to pick up.

Clark didn’t need Bruce’s command. He was doing a basic scan to the cart. 9 people were presented in the cart, 2 gunmen at the doorway and 7 hostages tied to their inner-wall seats. There were two drivers seemingly waiting for signal to drive. Now he saw the bright logo on the tuck, Trainor Chemical, the line ‘carry potential dangerous substances’ under the sign of flammable. Considering the tuck was containing kidnappers and hostages on the contrary, it was however equally dangerous. Two cars, one sedan and one MPV, common models popular brands were positioned in front and behind of the truck. Clark was unable to identify all their weapons but it was obvious that the gang were heavy-armed. A smooth escape or a police car chase was simply impossible.

“7 Hostages. Truck’s guarded. Guided and followed by 2 cars respectively.” Clark said in a soft yet firm voice. “Escape is not advised.”

Sooner came the engine noise and the truck was moving, heading to wherever the gang boss would like to meet the hostages. Bruce had come up with 5 possible locations and 10 reasons the boss Gerard Stegg wanted him, both cunning and decisive. However, the first priority was to find an escape route without risking Superman’s secret identity.

His throat was hot and irritating, Bruce began to cough roughly the lack of air. Wearing black sack on his head, Bruce could smell an unpleasant odor of the plastic and sweat. He thought of doing a breath practice or a several deep breaths, but let the idea go once he remembered the chest pain that attacked him. He lost his balance when he struggled the tie and nearly doubled over.

“Bruce…” Clark couldn't help but sounding nervous.

Bruce groaned in response. He weakly leaned into Clark and rest against the reporter’s shoulder. Clark did not wince, he was far too worried to resist the sick man.

***

Back in the main hall at Wayne tower, the guests were screaming and yelling, fully terrified by the running out timer-bomb among them. People scattered at all entrances, thrashing and pushing the locked doors with their greatest effort. Some of them abandoned the hope, they sat on the floor helplessly with a forlorn expression. Everyone there was on the edge of insanity.

“Help!”

“Ahhhh.”

“There is a bomb here.”

“Anyone’s outside?”

“For God’s sake, open the door!”

Vicki hadn’t give up. She decided that until her last breath, she wouldn’t let go of the chance to report this piece of outstanding news. Rarely had her personally involved in a terrorist attack and locked up with the city’s celebrities. She was fairly shocked and disgusted by the rich’s antics. One man could never break the door, but if they teamed up, they might manage to knock down one of the entrance with a table. But again, those people were out of their minds to have sense at all and they weren’t sane to compromise.

Where are the police? Vicki questioned and angered. Judging from the time of the clock, her last call was 18 minutes ago. Perhaps the policemen were fighting the gang downstairs, blocked from rescuing them.

Where is Clark? No matter what was the answer to this question, she couldn’t depend on Clark to save her. She wished Clark made it out and could be a witness for this catastrophe. She knew if it wasn’t her, Clark would do an excellent job on reporting this bomb and exposing the gang.

Her lost phone was nowhere to be seen. Vicki stepped forward to looked at the timer again. She wanted to know how much time was left. She thought that even if the time was too short for the police to make it, it would be still more than necessary for a short prayer.

8:00

People were yelling at her to stay away from the bomb. She didn’t listen to them until a man grabbed her and pushed her to the nearest seat. Vicki recognized the man, it was Dr. Graham the famous physician. She doubted if fames and reputations mattered at the very last moment of life.

6:00

Vicki missed her family. She regretted for shouting at her mother the last time they had dinner. She regretted for not saying goodbye to her flat mate this morning. She selfishly regretted for letting Clark go, so she could have a company right now. Vicki never realized there were so many things to regret in her life.

3:00

Most of the people had stop punching at the doors by now. Just like Vicki, most of them wanted to live and rescue themselves, but were tired to struggle any more. Did they accept their fates? Couples hugged tight to each other, parents embraced their children, man and woman in meditation, the room had returned from thunderous noisy to deadly silent.

1:46

There were 3 steady knocks at door of the main entrance, people were alerted and they slowly stood up, not sure what to on the other side. They gathered at the main entrance and waited with suspicious.

“Get away from the door!”

BAMP! BAMP! BAMP! BAMP! BAMP! After 5 gunshots, the door was down and a group of policeman holding submachine gun charged in, while the people in the hall stumbled back and raised their hands.

“We’re innocent!”

“There is a bomb here. It will explode in any minutes!”

“The terrorists are gone!”

Without hesitation, the policemen helped and quickly evacuated the trapped celebrities. There wasn’t even time to remove the bomb. Vicki ripped her dress to allow herself running and took off her heels. On her way down the stairs and bumping into the guests, she heard a loud explosion from above.

To be continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish you all enjoyed this chapter. 
> 
> In this story, I implied Superman's setting from the cinematic universe, but not entirely the movie's AU. I want to Bruce and Clark to be younger in their late 20s.


	4. Camouflage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Clark were missing, Alfred and Vicki continued to look for them.

Alfred stood impatiently in front of the television, he was calling Bruce when he saw the upper floors of Wayne Tower was exploded and burned like hell on live TV. All these years, Alfred was at the batcave, watching Bruce gone through numerous attacks and fights. He trusted Bruce and his ‘die hard’ daily life routine. However, he had a bad feeling about Bruce not communicating with him. God knows what danger his master jumped in again.

Straightaway, Alfred hurried to the set of monitors and computers. He looked up for any signs of Bat gadgets switched on in the process, but even the spare Batsuit in Wayne Tower was untouched. Meaning Batman was no in service and master Bruce was out there barehanded. Alfred was informed by Bruce earlier that Clark Kent would attend the event, but Superman hadn’t appeared either. The computer displayed an immediate face-time request, Alfred accepted the request and Dick Grayson appeared on screen with a concerned look.

“What is happening, Alfred? The freaking Wayne Tower just exploded?!”

“Master Richard, I was trying to call master Bruce who is attending a charity ball at the tower now.”

“Oh my god, did you reach him?”

“No, unfortunately master Bruce’s phone is off. He is not wearing his batsuit either.”

Dick frowned and asked, “What do you mean, Alfred?”

“I afraid that master Bruce is in grave trouble.”

Another notify box appeared on the right corner of the screen, beneath Dick’s face call. Alfred deciphered it and figure what was it and where was it. It was tracker in Bruce’s Italian leather shoe, it emitted signals and Bruce’s current location.

“There is signal from master Bruce’s shoe tracker. It is moving at a speed of 70 km/hour on a highway from central town to the city’s outskirt, assumable on a motor vehicle.”

“So Bruce is not anywhere near to the Wayne Tower. However, it is not the Batman way to leave innocent people and a bomb behind. Is it possible that Bruce is taken?”

“It is a very likely out of all scenarios, master Richard.” Alfred replied while working on the computers. “Even though the signal gives out master Bruce’s position, it doesn’t imply that he is” _Alive._ “sober or safe.”

“At least Bruce is nowhere near to the explosion.” Dick said lowly. “Whoever blown off the Wayne Tower is definitely behind this, and they might have kidnapped Bruce too. This is a plotted crime. Did you receive any blackmail calls, Alfred?”

“There is no call to the manor since the last hour. The company was way too busy clearing up the tower to receive call now, at least they did not inform the Wayne by far.”

“If they are asking for money, they will be coming for you.” Dick sighed. “Beware, Alfred. I will try my best to help and rescue Bruce, but first we need to find out what is going on. I will meet you at the Batcave within an hour.” He ended the call.

Alfred slowly shook his head. He was glad that Dick was willing to help and there were family members Bruce trusted. However, he couldn’t let Nightwing fight the entire gang alone. Another name popped up in Alfred’s mind, but he was too worried to find that person. Calling the anti-heroic vigilante was a contradiction, Alfred knew Bruce wouldn’t appreciate the help, but Bruce needed that powerful ally at this urgent moment.

***

30 minutes after the explosion, all of the guests and the force were safe outside the ruins of Wayne Tower. The tower itself withstood the explosion and it did not collapse, but pieces of glass and wall remains fell from the upper floors. Several ambulances arrived and carried injured citizens to the hospital, fortunately most of the people were more frightened than harmed.

Vicki was determined to look for her missing friend. With a blanket wrapping around, she was tired and she knew she looked horrible. She had been to 3 groups of people, and no one picked up the bespectacled reporter.

“Hello. Did anyone of us saw a male reporter from Daily Planet? He is around 6'3" and he has black hair and he wears glasses.”

“Sorry madam. I don’t think he come to this direction.”

“Are you sure? How about before the hostages came out of building?”

“No one walked out of the building before the explosion.”

A deep frown got hold of Vicki’s face, she quickly thanked the officers and walked away. She called Clark for 3 times in a roll. The reporter did not pick up the call for once. It was highly unlikely for Clark to switch off his phone, especially after the explosion, he should have been calling his family and friends. Would that mean Clark did not have his phone? If that so, where’s the phone?

“The phone…” Vicki murmured softly. Suddenly, the little light bulb popped on her head, and she knew where to search. She ran straight into the Wayne Tower where was filled with policemen and investigators. She headed to storage service and rang the bell on the counter.

“What can I help you, miss?”

“I’m looking for Mr. Clark Kent’s items. He was a reporter invited to the ball.”

“A second please.” The attendant went and returned with a package. “Here, miss.”

Vicki opened the package with her quick hands and searched it. Same as she expected, Clark’s phone was in bag and so were his personal items. Confused and distressed, Vicki wasn’t sure what to do with Clark’s missing and package.

“Sorry Ms. Smith, I don’t think your husband took his belongings yet.”

Vicki turned her head and saw the middle-age lady who was hiding under the same table with her on the left. She recalled the lady telling her that her husband was taken and missing. It looked like she hadn’t find him yet.

“Where is he? I haven’t seen him down here.”

Vicki told herself to calm down and think. Assuming Clark and a few guests left the hall, they should have left the building and collected their items. Since they didn’t, either they remained in the building or they were injured during the explosion. Clark and Mr. Smith gone missing at the same time. What if the gang kidnapped the rich and took them away before the explosion? Maybe the kidnap was their real purpose, to get money. While the explosion and hostages were distraction to buy them some time from the police?

Just as Vicki was about to draw a conclusion, Clark’s phone rang. It appeared to be _Lois_.

“Clark, where are you? You weren’t picking up calls and Martha is very worried.”

“Sorry, I’m not Clark Kent, I’m Vicki Vale.”

“Hmm? Ms. Vale? I’m Lois Lane. What happened to Clark?”

“I don’t know. He left the ball and he is missing. I found his phone from the storage service. I’m sorry.”

A pause. “Please save the explanation for later. I’m coming to Wayne Tower.”

After the call, Vicki realized the police was mobilizing, leaving a small group behind to guard the tower. She was puzzled than ever as she watched the police cars driving away.

***

Bruce drifted. He didn’t know when he lost his consciousness, but he missed a handful of minutes and he was still inside the truck. Leaning to Clark’s cool body against his feverish skin was comfortable, he didn’t even want to open his eyes until he remembered his current situation. He awoke with a jolt, saw nothing but plain darkness with a black sack on his head.

“How.. long did I…?” Bruce’s brain was in a mess. He managed to say the word with a gag in his mouth. 

“A couple of minutes, less than ten I think.” Clark answered smoothly. He realize that Clark had get rid of his gag. 

Bruce’s head was pounding and his mouth was dry. He gave a little cough and swallowed the lump forcing out of his burning throat. Bruce began to question his body state. By doing daily work outs, he was physically strong and healthy. It had been long since a little fever troubled him so much, especially during a kidnap, it disturbed him from fighting or thinking.

“Bruce, your temperate is alarming high. You give way more heat than the people around you.”

“I know.”

“And I can’t do anything about it.” Clark muttered under his breath.

There was police wagon siren coming from a distant length. Clark immediately turned his x-ray vision on. He could see 4 police cars racing toward them. The police cars were blocked by the civilian cars and it was difficult to pass through because they were driving on a one-way highway.

“Is that the goddamn police?” One of the gunmen inside the truck asked through an interphone.

“I thought we have a long period of time to escape after the explosion.” The other man said.

Clark picked up the voice from the interphone by his super hearing. “The tower is blown off. Those freaking cops must have find us by the monitor cameras.”

“Luckily they are behind us and they don’t have time to set barriers.”

“Joe’s 7 seater will deal with them.”

“Copy that.”

Once the call was finished, Clark could hear a sharp turn and stop of the van behind the truck. The van was horizontally across the road. Clear and loud gunshots followed as the gunmen on the van attacked the cars on the highway, aimlessly on both police and civilians. Clark froze and held his breath, so did rest of the hostages.

Afterward, there were tumultuous sounds of cars crashing into each other and alarms being set off. People on the truck could picture a burning mess of hell on the highway few hundred meters back. The van did not catch up either, probably had sacrificed to stop the police from approaching the hostage truck.

Clark’s anger boiled in him, frustrated at the brutal attacks of the gang. His eyes started to grow red under the black sack, his heat vision threatening to blast out in any seconds. His hands clenched into fists as the tie on his arms began to loose and break. The only thing mattered in him was to save the injured people trapped in their cars.

“Don’t.” came Bruce’s voice.

Clark turned his head and glowered at Bruce, only to meet Bruce guilt in eyes and sadness on the face under the sack. Blaming at his ability to see through thing, his anger cooled down and his eyes returned to sky blue. He could sense the man’s struggle at making the decision. Bruce was right, he couldn’t risk his identity. All he could do was to believe in the GCPD to rescue the injured.

The moment put Clark into a flashback. He remembered that day he let his father died in a tornado. No matter how Martha tried to convince Clark that he was innocent and helpless in that situation, he knew his inability made him left his father to the disaster. Standing there and do nothing was equal to a murder. Sometimes, he thought his secret identity was his Achilles’ heel.

“Don’t blame yourself.”

“I know.”

He saw Bruce smiling weakly and it in fact cheered him up a little. Suddenly, Bruce’s frown deepened as he coughed and coughed. Clark did what he was doing all along, nothing but watching. However, he would not let his friend down again. His inability took his father and countless of innocent people, but Clark would never let Bruce die.

Their abduction trip on the truck continued as they headed somewhere unkown, to meet someone unknown and to face trouble unkown.

To be continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> I rearranged the chapters and did some refinements. Yes, I named the chapters according to the songs from Selena Gomez's Revival. I just love that album.
> 
> Btw, Lois and Dick and you know who Alfred had also called will join the story and have bigger parts in the following chapter.


End file.
